


King of Hearts

by ClaraxBarton



Series: Entanglement Arc [1]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 06:22:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1677983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two hot shot law students have one last poker night.</p><p>2014 Smut Off featuring Trowa and ties with Miss-Murdered</p>
            </blockquote>





	King of Hearts

A/N: Another installment in the “2014 Smut off involving Trowa and ties”. This is actually kind of a prequel to Defeated.  
Be sure to check out the other fics in the series:  
Miss-Murdered’s: The Ties That Bind, Insubordination, Belonging (available on tumblr)  
Clara Barton’s: Back Up, Distraction, Defeated

Warnings: smut. bad jokes. language.

King of Hearts

There was precious little benefit to being an intern for Meteor Law Group.  
Well, Duo had to admit on the days he didn’t think about stapling his tie to the wall of his cubicle, there was precious little immediate benefit. Next year, after he had graduated from Yale Law School and applied to law firms, having this on his resume was guaranteed to land him a plush office at any number of law firms - including Meteor Law Group, if he survived and didn’t staple his god damned tie to the god damned insufferably close wall of his cubicle.  
It was too tempting, oh so tempting, since the tie was white and blue stripes of his Alma Mater and it had become the symbol of his torture, his servitude and his very existence.  
MLG took on six new interns every summer, all at the top of their classes at their respective law schools, and, because apparently six was six too many new names to remember, only referred to the interns based on their law schools.  
So, for the last eight weeks, Duo had been known as Yale - not Duo, not Maxwell, not even Max. Just Yale.  
It was frustrating as fuck. If he did something wrong then it was always “well, Yale really fucked that up” and it felt like he had let down his entire institution - like three hundred years of academia had been squashed and destroyed because he forgot to highlight one sentence on the Kippernick brief. If he did something right then it was “great job, Yale” and it made him feel as though he was honoring that three hundred years, sure, but it also made him feel completely insignificant - it wasn’t Duo that had done a good job, it was fucking Yale.  
At least he wasn’t Stanford, forced to wear that truly fucking hideous green and red striped tie that looked like a Christmas tree had died on it.  
Of course, Stanford, or Trowa Barton, was just as gorgeous as his tie was hideous. And just as irritating. He was handsome, he was brilliant, and he was completely immune to Duo’s charms, oblivious to his subtle and less than subtle attempts at flirtation, unimpressed with Duo’s own brilliance and completely blind when it came to the effort Duo took to look his best every damn day in the hopes that just fucking one Stanford would look at him and smile - wink - anything other than just look right past him.  
But no. Stanford walked around in his red and green tie, his immaculate suits and he gave absolutely no fucks when Duo took off his suit jacket and stretched obscenely or leaned against his cubicle and fiddled with the end of his hair or leaned way too close in the research library when he looked over his shoulder at something.  
It wasn’t fair, especially not when you threw in the freckles. Those damned, perfect fucking freckles across the bridge of his nose that made Duo think of summers on the beach and bonfires and beer and - he couldn’t think of a word for sex that started with a b except for banging, so he stopped his mental alliteration attempts.  
Freckles were Duo’s one true weakness. If he’d wanted to, he could have ignored Trowa’s long, lean body, his lightly tanned skin, his perfect mouth, his incredible jaw line, his intense green eyes that were deeper and clearer than any emerald, his short auburn hair, kept off his face except for the long bangs that usually hid one eye unless Trowa bothered to slick it back into that bizarrely sexy pompadour-faux hawk look he did for court appearances. Duo could have ignored all of that. But he couldn’t ignore the freckles.  
Freckles had been the reason Duo had stayed straight for years longer than necessary - dating Hilde all through college because she had those damn freckles and they were so cute that he could try to look away from the Princeton crew practices and look at her face and be almost content.  
The one thing that was close to a benefit, a perk, any kind of compensation for working ninety hours a week for no pay and zero recognition - because until Duo died, was cremated and had his ashes interred in the Yale Law School library, he was not Yale - were the Friday night poker games.  
The partners had catered lunch on Fridays, if they were in the office at all, and some enterprising intern - Duo thought it was Penn - had learned that they threw out the leftovers - including the half empty bottles of Cliquot - so the interns banned together, the only time they weren’t at each other throats, competing for supremacy, and scavenged the leftover Morton’s catering and the champagne and hoarded it for Friday night poker games in the copy room.  
They had learned after the first week to invite the paralegals, the only other employees who stayed at the office that late, and the paralegals in turn, perhaps sensing future spouses and a step ladder to a house in the Hamptons, started to bring extra alcohol.  
This was to be the last poker game of the summer, and Duo walked into the dark, smoky copy room with mixed feelings.  
They only turned on one bank of fluorescent lights - the single gay male paralegal, Allan, thought it was romantic and Duo appreciated Allan’s sense of romance about as much as he appreciated his taste in men. Allan was already attached to Trowa’s hip, one hand pawing at his waist as he oogled over Trowa’s ability to stay so trim, so fit and so -  
“Allan. He’s not a Calvin Kline model,” Duo finally snapped. “Chill out.”  
Allan, Trowa, Penn, Columbia and Tricia all looked at him in amusement.  
Allan made a tsking noise.  
“You’re beautiful too, Yale,” Allan purred, “but too pretty for my tastes.”  
Duo rolled his eyes.  
He’d heard that before - way too often - and while he didn’t give a single fuck if Allan thought he was too pretty, he wondered if that was why Trowa didn’t have any interest in him. He was gay, Duo knew, because Tricia and Allan gossiped more than Duo’s mother and aunt, who took gossip as seriously as an Olympic sport and had no intention of letting down their country, and they liked to gossip near the intern coffee pot (helpfully labelled lest they ever be confused and dare to use the associates coffee or, if they were functionally braid dead, the partners coffee lounge) and they plotted ways for Allan to trap Trowa, Stanford as even they called him, into a marriage of convenience.  
“We’re here to play poker anyway,” Vanderbilt reminded them and shuffled the deck of cards.  
Duo sighed. He hated Vanderbilt - the smarmy ginger had only gotten this internship because his uncle was the head of HR for MLG - but for once he appreciated him.  
Duo took his place at the card table, across from Trowa, beside Tricia - the only paralegal who ever played poker, Allan and Stacey just liked to watch. Well, Allan liked to watch Trowa and Stacey liked to helpfully point out all the ways they could have played their last hands better. She was, hands down, Duo’s favorite paralegal and he hoped to god he was important enough one day, somewhere, to hire her.  
Vanderbilt dealt the first hand, two cards to Tricia, Duo, Penn, Duke, Trowa and Columbia before finishing with himself.  
Predictably, things got out of hand very quickly, as they always did. Almost everyone was drunk within an hour - seriously, it was pathetic how Duke and Penn were completely unable to hold their liquor - and Duo was convinced that only he, Columbia, Stacey and Trowa were sober enough to remember their school mottos after three hours (then again, he had to admit, there was every chance Columbia had it tattooed somewhere on his body - the guy was hardcore).  
By two a.m. it was just Vanderbilt - who, despite being a shit human being, or perhaps because of it, was an excellent poker player - Trowa and Duo left in the game. Stacey had taken Columbia home with her - unlike Tricia and Allan she had no wish to bag herself a lawyer for a husband but she claimed Columbia spent hours going down on her when he was drunk enough - Penn and Duke went home alone, as usual and Tricia and Allan eventually gave up on them to go clubbing when Trowa gently shrugged off the shoulder rub Allan offered him.  
“So, last game of the season,” Vanderbilt said as Stacey dragged Columbia out of the the copy room and Duo topped off his office assigned Yale coffee mug with Clicquot.  
“It’s not a season,” Duo muttered, hating the very sound of the man’s voice. He wasn’t even the top of his class at Vanderbilt.  
“Sure it is. And, if you play your cards right, next season you might get called up to join the majors.”  
Duo rolled his eyes and saw Trowa do the same. They shared a grin and Duo’s heart almost stopped in his chest.  
Had Stanford just acknowledged his existence?  
“Because, you know, it’s MLG - like Major League Gaming, but Meteor Law Group?”  
Duo and Trowa now turned to Vanderbilt in bewilderment.  
“Major League Gaming?”  
Vanderbilt nodded.  
“Yeah - don’t you guys watch their stuff on youtube?”  
Duo shook his head.  
“No, dude. I spent ninety hours a week chained to my fucking cubicle, twenty hours a week commuting and the other fifty drinking.”  
“No sleep?” Trowa asked, legitimately the first words he had ever directed at Duo that didn’t involve asking for a pen, a highlighter, a legal brief or his coffee mug.  
“Not with dreams of you keeping me up,” Duo said and instantly froze. He could feel his face turn completely red and he fought the urge to just sink under the table and die.  
Not only was it a fucking terrible line - even if it was very nearly the truth - but Jesus fucking Christ Vanderbilt was still sitting there and when had Duo gotten drunk enough to say that shit?  
“Seems only fair, considering how little sleep you’ve let me have,” Trowa said and Duo nearly passed out from a lack of oxygen.  
He - Stanford fantasized about him? About Yale? Fuck - about Duo?  
Vanderbilt groaned.  
“You two need to go fuck in the bathroom or can we finish the game first?” He demanded.  
“We can finish the game first,” Trowa said, a smirk on his face and dear God, Duo wanted to commit the rest of his life to keeping that expression there.  
“Well, no reason we can’t prepare for that future bathroom fuck while we’re here,” Duo said, regaining control of himself, reminding himself that he was Yale - no, he was Duo and he was smooth and sexy and he really wanted his dick to be that bottle of vodka Trowa raised to his lips to drink from.  
Vanderbilt frowned but Trowa just arched an eyebrow.  
“Oh?” Trowa said.  
Duo shrugged one shoulder, trying to appear nonchalant.  
“Strip poker?” He suggested.  
Trowa smirked but before he could respond Vanderbilt slapped his hands on the table.  
“Hell yes! That’s what I’m talking about!”  
Duo and Trowa looked at him in concern and fear.  
That - Jesus, Vanderbilt was gay too?  
Duo wondered if he and Trowa could just casually leave and go have that bathroom fuck, but Vanderbilt was already dealing the cards and Duo just sighed.  
What was the absolute worst that could happen?  
As it turned out, forty five minutes later that question was answered for Duo.  
Vanderbilt sat beside him, nearly naked except for his black and gold tie striped tie, matching his freaking black and gold striped socks. It wasn’t as if he was grossly overweight or anything, but he had a tattoo that said “I love Lou” over his heart and it was impossible to look at him the same way ever, ever again.  
Because Lou was the name of his uncle, the head of HR, and Duo just could not begin to think about what the fuck it all meant.  
Of course, thinking wasn’t exactly his highest priority anyway, not with Trowa sitting across from him, completely naked except for his red and green Christmas vomit Stanford tie.  
Duo still had his boxers, trousers and his Yale tie - it had been Vanderbilt’s stipulation that they honor tradition and keep the ties on until last, and just what fucking tradition he was referring to, Duo could not ask, because dear God what if it involved Lou?  
With a groan Vanderbilt threw in his hand and pulled off his socks, depositing them with the rest of his clothes on the floor.  
“Well?” Duo asked Trowa, who laid down his cards, revealing four jacks.  
Duo groaned and threw down his own hand, a measly pair of eights, and stood up.  
He felt both Trowa and Vanderbilt’s eyes on him as he stripped out of his trousers, but he ignored Vanderbilt and instead looked at Trowa. He took his time unbuttoning the fly, peeling down the zipper and then slowly tugging down the dark gray wool until it fell in a pool at his ankles.  
Vanderbilt made a sound that Duo wanted to never hear again, but Trowa’s eyes had narrowed with what Duo felt confident was lust.  
He sat back down, his black silk boxers doing little to hide his growing erection and he had no wish to drive Vanderbilt to more vocal appreciation.  
Duo took the deck from Vanderbilt and dealt the next hand, praying as fervently as he ever had in his life that this would be the hand that made Vanderbilt lose his tie and sent him packing.  
Apparently the gods loved him, because Vanderbilt folded again and while Trowa won the hand and Duo had to take off his boxers, Vanderbilt yanked off his tie and tossed it at Trowa and finally gathered his clothes under his arms.  
“Well, Stanford, Yale, it’s been fun. You two guys are great - you’re the only ones who didn’t treat me like shit and I really look forward to working with you next year if you accept MLG’s offer to join the associates.”  
Duo and Trowa shared a shocked look and then turned to Vanderbilt.  
“What?” Duo had to ask, sure he had heard nothing about that correctly.  
Vanderbilt shrugged.  
“Job offers? You guys aren’t dicks? See you next year?”  
Duo felt incredibly guilty - Vanderbilt thought he wasn’t a dick? Duo ignored him ninety percent of the time, acknowledging him only when Vanderbilt received particularly brutal tongue lashings and comforting him by telling him that one day Vanderbilt would totally pass the bar and be a kick ass lawyer and make his uncle proud.  
“Oh.” Was all Duo could say. He looked over at Trowa and wondered just what Trowa had done to be considered ‘not a dick’ by Vanderbilt. It wasn’t as if Trowa was a dick, but he generally treated everyone - interns, paralegals, associates and partners - with equal indifference.  
“Anyway - don’t get the cards sticky and just leave them on my cubicle desk when you’re done.”  
Vanderbilt waved and left, still naked.  
“That was fucking weird,” Trowa muttered.  
“Amen,” Duo agreed.  
It took a moment for reality to set in - for Duo to remember that they were both naked except for their stupid school ties that made him, for just a second, think of Harry Potter, and they were completely alone.  
“Well,” Duo said and stretched out. The effect was partially lost since Trowa couldn’t see his lower body, but Trowa seemed pretty keen on what he could see. “Feel like taking this all the way to the end, Stanford?”  
Trowa’s lips twitched into a smirk again.  
“Do you mean do I feel like collecting your tie, Yale? Or do I feel like putting my cock up your ass in the bathroom?”  
Duo’s mouth went dry.  
“You know, I was kind of angling for my cubicle desk. It’d be nice to have one decent memory of the place.”  
Trowa held his gaze and nodded.  
“Only if we do it on mine next - the only comforting thought I’ve had all summer is that there is just enough room for your ass to fit on it if I push the keyboard and the case files to one side.”  
Duo was mid shuffle and the cards went flying as Trowa spoke.  
“Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Duo had to ask.  
Trowa arched an eyebrow.  
“I’ve practically thrown myself at you all summer and you ignored me until tonight?”  
Trowa shrugged.  
“I figured there was no point in getting more attached to you.”  
It was Duo’s turn to arch an eyebrow.  
“More attached?”  
Trowa gave him a look.  
“You really haven’t noticed me asking to work with you on every case you get assigned? You haven’t noticed me staying late with you to research every time?”  
Duo’s jaw dropped open.  
“You - well, fuck, Trowa. We could have been fucking each other this whole time! Screw getting more attached - I was ready to start picking out our summer cottage in East Egg the moment you called Columbia a waddling twat.”  
Trowa’s lips twitched.  
“I’m not that attached to the Hamptons,” he said.  
“Fine. Martha’s Vineyard. I’m not that picky.”  
Trowa held his gaze for one long moment.  
“I could live with that,” he decided and then gestured to the scattered cards. “One last hand?”  
They collected the cards and Duo dealt them out.  
“You think they’re going to offer us the jobs?” He had to ask.  
Trowa nodded.  
“They always do - they pick the top two interns and assuming neither one takes a job with Zodiac or fails to pass the bar they offer them junior associates positions.”  
“Those cubicles are only eight inches bigger than ours,” Duo grumbled.  
“You measured?”  
“Well, yeah, had to figure out if you’d fit under the desk while you gave me a blow job.”  
Trowa gave him a look full of heat and promise.  
“Ready to call?” Duo asked him and Trowa nodded and laid down his cards, a flush and he looked so damn sure of himself, so proud and smirking that Duo almost decided to lie and let him win.  
“Well?” Trowa prompted.  
Duo laid down his own cards, a royal flush, with the King of Hearts sitting proudly on top.  
Trowa gave a dramatic sigh and reached for his tie.  
“No,” Duo stopped him, “let me.”  
They both stood up from the table and Duo took his time walking around, staring at the absolute perfection of Trowa’s body because for fuck’s sake, the man could be a Calvin Kline model.  
Trowa seemed pleased with Duo as well, if his half hard cock and smirk were anything to go by.  
Duo reached out and tugged on that hideous tie.  
“Come on, Stanford, my desk has been waiting for this all summer.”  
He led Trowa through the dark rows of cubicles and as they approached the intern cubicles he had a sudden fear - what the fuck were they doing? Any potential job offers - hell any potential references - would be thrown out of the window if they were caught fucking on Duo’s desk.  
Then again, Duo thought as he flipped Trowa’s tie over his shoulder and pulled him closer, bringing Trowa’s front to his back and feeling that glorious hard cock nestle between his ass, it would probably be worth it.  
If worse came to worse - Duo shuddered at the too recent memory of the last ‘worst’ he had just witnessed with Vanderbilt - maybe he and Trowa could get jobs at Legal Aid together and a closet sized apartment that was just big enough for them to fuck standing up. He could live with that.  
Trowa’s hands were on his hips, maybe steadying himself, but his thumbs were edging their way towards Duo’s groin and Duo was pretty sure Thomas Darlian, the Managing Partner, could walk in right that moment and he wouldn’t care because Trowa wrapped his left hand around Duo’s cock and nothing in the world mattered because holy shit it felt good.  
Trowa’s cubicle was closer, and with a silent apology to his own desk, Duo shoved Trowa’s ass down on his keyboard and kissed him.  
It was amazing - so much better than anything Duo had fantasized about all summer. Trowa tasted like vodka and champagne, his mouth was hot, his tongue was forceful and teasing and he was smirking against Duo’s lips and it was, hands down, the best kiss Duo had ever had. Ever wanted to have.  
He tugged on the back of Trowa’s tie, pulling him away and taking a moment to catch his breath.  
“Jesus Christ, Stanford, where did you learn to kiss like that?”  
Trowa smirked.  
“What? They don’t teach ‘how to kiss better than your best wet dream’ at Yale?”  
Duo shook his head.  
“No.”  
Trowa arched an eyebrow.  
“Did they teach you anything useful there?”  
“A few things,” Duo assured him and tugged on the front of the tie this time, bringing their lips back together.  
The kiss was just as good as the first, but Duo’s focus was split because Trowa’s hands were everywhere, exploring his body and squeezing and pinching and fuck he was good at this.  
“I’m never going to forgive you for wasting this summer,” Duo muttered as he pulled away and kissed his way across Trowa’s jaw, nibbled at his ear lobe until Trowa gasped and then kissed kissed his way down Trowa’s neck.  
“I’ll make it up to you,” Trowa promised with a moan as Duo bit down on one of his nipples.  
“It’s going to take more than tonight,” Duo warned as he moved to the other side.  
“Mhm,” Trowa’s fingers threaded through the base of Duo’s braid, tugging slightly but making no move to loosen it and Duo appreciated that. “A few summers at our cottage in Martha’s? Fucking on the beach at dawn?”  
“Sand, everywhere,” Duo sighed. He moved back and sat down in Trowa’s chair. “What the hell? Your chair rolls?”  
Trowa smirked.  
“Stacey got it for me. She likes me.”  
“I thought she liked me,” Duo felt betrayed.  
Trowa shrugged and pulled Duo and the chair close, using Duo’s tie to reel him in.  
“I think she likes both of us,” he confided.  
“Who wouldn’t?” Duo smirked and took Trowa’s hint.  
He kissed his way up the inside of Trowa’s right thigh, running his fingers down the outside of his left.  
“Christmas in Paris?” Trowa negotiated, sucking in a deep breath when Duo bit down on his thigh.  
“Mhm,” Duo hummed in agreement and Trowa shivered at the sensation.  
Duo switched to the other thigh, transferring his hand up to Trowa’s chest, flipping the tie to one side and running his fingers over Trowa’s really, obscenely well defined abs.  
When did he find the time to work out?  
“Hawaii for our honeymoon, or is that too cliche?” Trowa asked.  
“It might be cliche, but we can get one of those cabins on the beach - on the North shore of Oahu and we can fuck on a hammock.”  
“You complain about sand,” Trowa muttered and shook his head in disappointment, “but do you know how hard it is to get any leverage in a hammock?”  
“I’ll just blow you in it then,” Duo compromised and decided to give Trowa a preview.  
He licked the head of Trowa’s cock and Trowa groaned.  
“God, yes,” he said and Duo licked his way down, swirling his tongue around the smooth, hot shaft and he took a moment to sniff. Jesus. Trowa even smelled better than Duo had dreamed.  
He took his time, bobbing his head along the hard length and savoring the feel of it as it nudged the back of his throat, risking his gag reflex and deep throating Trowa and when he came Duo swallowed furiously, and even that - Trowa tasted so damn good.  
“How limber are you feeling?” Duo asked him after Trowa had had a moment to recover.  
Trowa arched an eyebrow.  
“I could turn you over and fuck you from behind,” Duo explained, “but I’d rather see your face.” He flicked the tie, “and your Stanford tie, of course.”  
Trowa chuckled and he leaned over to open one of his desk drawers. He passed a small tube of KY to Duo.  
Duo gave him a look.  
“I like to be prepared,” Trowa explained.  
Duo smirked.  
“Were you a boy scout?”  
Trowa looked momentarily defensive and Duo laughed.  
“Oh my God, you fucking were. Now that is going to be the first costume you wear when we do Halloween together - I’ve always wanted to have sex with a boy scout.”  
Trowa arched his other eyebrow.  
“Not - I mean, not now, not with like a fifteen year old,” Duo rushed to explain.  
“Right.”  
“Oh shut up.”  
Duo kissed him again, swallowing Trowa’s laughter.  
He stood up and hooked Trowa’s left leg over his right shoulder. He had always imagined Trowa was flexible, and he most decidedly was.  
Duo coated his fingers with lube and teased Trowa’s anus while Trowa started to stroke Duo’s cock again.  
“God that feels good,” Duo told him.  
Duo eased one finger inside of Trowa and held his gaze and Trowa looked back, eyes dark.  
Trowa’s hips bucked upwards when Duo nudged his prostate and Duo smirked at the way Trowa’s mouth fell open.  
He added a second finger and Trowa moaned.  
“God, you’re tight,” Duo muttered.  
“It’s been awhile,” Trowa said, half explanation, half apology.  
“Who’s fault is that?” Duo muttered, irritated yet again that they had wasted all fucking summer not fucking.  
“Christmas in Paris and the Hawaiian honeymoon don’t make up for it?” Trowa hazarded.  
“No.”  
“Fine. I’ll propose to you at Fenway Park.”  
That stopped Duo momentarily.  
“How do you know I’m a Sox fan?”  
Trowa gave him a look.  
“Columbia,” Trowa groaned, and it sounded sexy as hell. The only time Duo would ever associate that school or that man with sex. “You two got into that fight at the bar after the Yankees lost to the Red Sox last month.”  
“Oh yeah.”  
Duo had forgotten about that - no surprise considering that Columbia hit like a three year old and Duo’s eye had barely bruised.  
Duo figured that Trowa was as ready as he could make him - well, he could spend another hour fingering him and while Duo would be happy to do that, he didn’t fancy their chances of not getting caught if they stayed here all night.  
Trowa reached for the lube, clearly anticipating Duo, and spread some on his fingers before reaching for Duo’s cock again.  
Duo shuddered at the cool touch and then groaned as Trowa covered him with the lube and then nudged the head of his cock towards his anus.  
Duo eased himself in, careful and slow after Trowa hissed at the pain of Duo’s entrance.  
“More lube?” Duo asked.  
Trowa shook his head.  
“No, it’s fine - just need to adjust to it.”  
Duo nodded and held himself still, waiting for Trowa.  
A moment later Trowa rolled his hips, pulling Duo deeper inside.  
“Fuck you are really, really tight,” Duo told him and he knew he wasn’t going to last for very long.  
Trowa wrapped his free leg around Duo’s waist and used it to pull him even closer, pushing him all the way in and they both groaned.  
Duo reached down, using Trowa’s tie to pull his head up for another kiss.  
He held their lips together, caressed Trowa’s mouth with his tongue even as he started to thrust in and out of his body, shallow, slow movements that he hoped would prolong this.  
He released Trowa’s tie and reached between their bodies to wrap one hand around Trowa’s cock, hard again and leaking pre-cum and he he stroked it in time to his own movements.  
It was pathetically soon after when he felt Trowa’s hips start to jerk, felt his own movements loose their coordination and they came together, swallowing each other’s moans and clinging tightly to each other’s ties.  
“Not bad, Yale,” Trowa told him when they finally pulled apart.  
“A little too quick for my tastes, Stanford,” Duo responded.  
Trowa finally removed his tie and he passed it over to Duo.  
“Need something to remember me by?” He joked.  
Duo considered him, considered the tie, considered their banter and the hypothetical future they had mapped out together.  
He accepted the tie, unsure if this was goodbye, if it had just been hypothetical.  
“At least until we meet again,” Trowa added, reading Duo’s face.  
“What? I’m supposed to jack off thinking of you, holding this hideous thing in one hand and my cock in the other?” Duo asked him.  
Trowa smirked and pulled on Duo’s tie, loosening it and pulling it off.  
“Might as well. It’s what I’m going to be doing with yours.”

 

-ooo-  
Your turn Miss M!

And yes, this IS a prequel to Defeated, so clearly Duo and Trowa are going to need to make a few adjustments to their hypothetical plans for the future.


End file.
